A Public Affair
by EmilyEcstatic
Summary: AU/Historical C/B Two strangers on a journey, one to find a new life, and one to recieve a grand reward by using the other. When feelings emerge, will it all be worth giving it all up in the end? Based on Anastasia.
1. Chapter 1

I decided to start this one over, and each chapter will be slightly different with most of the original content. Guardian Izz was my beta and I got my chapters back corrected and now seemed like a good time to post it. Hopefully you enjoy, and let me know what you think in a review. Please don't be mad at me, I just felt you guys needed better material. And I have a good amount of chapters written so the more inspiration or feedback, the more I write and can give you more to read! Love you all ! Enjoy! - Emily

A Public Affair - Prologue

St. Petersburg, 1917

The revolution had come. The snow twisted and turned outside against the dark, night sky. The cold, bitter feeling would never go away. The imperial family, the Romanovs, had been taken to a far away city, either for questioning, or, as most suspected, to meet a fate far worse. The Russian Empire was falling apart. Only a few royalists still remained in the Russian capital, the once intellectual metropolitan - Saint Petersburg.

Little Blair was the daughter of Archduke, general, and close relative to the tsar Alexander II. Her father, Grand Duke Nicholas Nikolayevich, honorable Russian general had served as the commander of the great Russian Army on the front during the Great War, and merely a year ago retired for a quiet life among the society. He was well known around the city, and that was a frightening thought nowadays.

Nicholas adored his daughter. She was the perfect mix of his late wife and himself. Her brunette curls, soft and rich as a cashmere blanket. Her red lips, when pressed together looked like a vibrant heart, maybe serving as a glimpse inside of the real one. Also, her brown doe eyes made her an enchantress at only age four would most likely cause a problem in her later years and the duke was already keeping her at a distance away from boys, or men younger than 20 in general.

For a four year old, she had quite the personality. Blair had proven that she was not some delicate little flower. As much as she would have liked to seem like a dainty damsel in distress, her father knew she was destined for much greater things. One thing he did not quite understand however, was her constant inquiry about the family across the canal and well… her curiosity in general. The duke was more direct in his ways, but his daughter was from a young age a schemer.

Together they lived in a city mansion near a Griboedov canal in the all too familiar central part of Petersburg. Blair loved that house. Its old feel and regal presence made her feel like she was of the highest power. It also made her feel like she was somebody who would one day befriend the matrons of Europe. Her favorite aspects of the mansion were the crimson carpets accompanied by the black and white tile. The sounds of her shoes could be heard echoing on the tile, a reminder of the darling girl who lived there. The grand staircase that led into the Grand Ballroom was where her father would hold extravagant parties, while Blair hid behind the corner and watched all of the gentlemen in uniforms and their female companions try to make conversation with her father. Once in a while Nicholas would take leave from the dull duty if having to discuss politics and old stories, to have a dance with his doll of a daughter, showing her off in the process.

The Austrian waltzes boomed through that Ballroom, and when it was empty, you felt as if you could still hear the classical music. The paintings of her distant cousins, wherever they were, her uncles, aunts, friends…all gone without a trace of their disappearance.

Often, Blair would slowly descend down the regal staircase acting like she had seen grown-ups do, and once she reached the bottom, curtsey to the silent room just as she was taught by her governess. The little heiress would sit on the last step and regard all of the paintings, muttering to herself about her predecessors' awful taste in clothing.

But now, fear of being taken away had consumed Blair and her father's whole being. Whenever it got too quiet, they would assume the worst. The silence Blair once cherished was gone and gossip and lies would soon become an erasable part of her life.

Across the canal, lived an equally noble and well-known family. The patriarch was a very wealthy man who had a child out of wedlock– a son born by a famous opera singer. Bartholomew never did marry the woman and continued his womanizing bachelor ways. Often he would leave the city for leisure and would leave the boy in the servants' care. The man was a close friend to Nicholas, and Blair, being the Archduke's daughter had heard not much, but enough of the man's infamous son – the story of his upbringing naturally aroused her curiosity. The boy was three years her senior which wasn't that much, was educated and grew up in luxury but away from the eyes of society. His father was rarely in town and hence the boy was mostly left in solitude of the grand mansion. The way Blair saw it, it was worse to not be acknowledged at all than being acknowledged poorly. She would sometimes spot him staring back at her through a window on the third floor, but before she had a chance to wave she would be pulled away from the balcony and the windows would already be locked by the time she managed to escape her governess.

The revolution was nearing quickly. It was quite obvious that the Duke had to leave his mother country if not for his own sake, then for the sake of his precious daughter. The only escape was to Paris. France was home to the Archibald family. They were very close and dear friends of the Romanovs. Unaware to Blair and the public, she was betrothed to the youngest son, Nathaniel who was also a few years older than the little girl. Blair's father would probably inform her of this maybe very soon as it would come out during family gossip. So Paris, it would have it to be. This would be a new beginning for her: new friends, new ladies to admire, and new surroundings. The only thing she could forever keep was her doll, Ana. Her father had given Ana to Blair for her second birthday and she had never parted from it since. Ana knew most of Blair's secrets but was very loyal and never told anyone.

As she shivered as she prepared to leave her mansion, probably for the last time. She didn't take much except for Ana and her heart pendant around her neck. Her icy blue coat contrasted beautifully against her pale skin. She walked down the corridors for the last time, and couldn't help but cry. The Great Ballroom felt so dismal and full of memories that would soon be left behind.

She took her usual spot on the last step and silently put her head near her knees and wept. Unknowingly, her father had been looking for her, and when he had found her in her usual spot, he felt a warmth spreading through his usually chilled heart. So, he sat down beside her, and waited a few minutes before he said anything.

"Beautiful isn't it?" Nicholas murmured to himself and the empty ballroom, hoping she would be listening. "Little Duchess, don't cry. One day, I promise, you'll be back." He soothingly rubbed his rough hand along her back like he was used to do whenever his little girl felt distressed.

"Oh, Papa, I do hope we return. I very much hope so. What is Paris like? Do tell me, Papa please." Blair's eyes shone with sad excitement that made Nicholas unable to deny her request.

"Dear, it's wonderful. The people are very classy and everyone is always moving. The buildings are splendid and I know you'll love the pretty clothes you'll be able to wear. Paris is known for their immaculate fashion."

"Oh, I cannot wait!" Blair hugged him. "You'll see, I'll have the most wonderful dresses, oh and my headbands. Those society ladies will be pea green with envy! I was meant for fashion, Papa, I was."

"You are meant for a lot of things, yes. Blair…things will change. Change is inevitable." Blair's blank stare made him realize she did not know what that meant. "Inevitable means it is bound to happen, it _will_ happen. Just promise me, Little Duchess that you will never forget of who you really are and where you come from. Others will try and change you for their own benefit, you are special and many people know that, dear." Nicholas' eyes started misting and he realized that it hadn't happened since his deceased wife passed.

"I promise, Papa, I promise. I always have Ana and my pendant here to remind me!" Blair gestured to her neck and to her doll while her father smiled.

Suddenly, Nola, Blair's governess appeared at the top of the staircase. Blair wasn't too fond of Nola with her dark hair and cat-like eyes, but nonetheless she cared for the woman who helped to raise her.

"It is time." She slowly spoke enunciating with her French accent. "We go now Mademoiselle. Take Ana and let us hurry."

Blair hurried up the stairs. When she looked down, the little girl caught her father taking one last long look around his ballroom - the place once filled with joy and happiness that very likely would never return. With a sad sigh, she continued up the staircase and said goodbye to her home.

The train station was overcrowded with hundreds of desperate people trying to flee. Most were so far, unsuccessful. Charles Bass was pushed through the crowd along with one of his many caretakers. He and his father had tried to catch a boat to America, but his father, who had been rushing to the next departing train. Out of nowhere young Charles heard car breaks and his father disappeared from his view. His nanny stood frozen and the confused and anxious boy was dragged into another direction.

Stubborn as ever the little boy pulled his hand free and ran over to the place, crawling on the ground to get past the panicked barbarians. "Dad?" Chuck stared in disbelief as he saw red fluid make patterns in the fresh snow. The footsteps of others running around the body swirled the blood within the snow. It almost resembled a candy cane. Barely registering his nanny pulling him away, Charles thought of Christmas.

Happy Thoughts.

Happy Thoughts.

But the shouts of the crazed escapees would haunt him forever.

"Hurry children!"

"Put that gun, down Sir, if you know what's good for you."

"Not my baby!"

Chills made their way up his neck, and he was quickly whisked away by his caretaker. It was almost as if they hadn't left the body of the great Bartholomew Bass lying on the crowded and dirty platform nr.7 at the Grand Station of St Petersburg.

The nanny told him that she had seen a riot beginning to break out. So, she had gotten him out of harm's way before anything else could have happened to him. The caretaker made a rash decision to have them take the next train to Paris and from there she would help him get to America where she knew his father had business and property saved in trust funds. Only then did she realize that this boy, this scared little boy was the heir to the Bass millions. The nobility was stripped away at this point; he was partly noble, but not as prominently. Bart never told anyone that he planned on making his bastard son the sole heir to his empire, but as his will would have it, the younger bass would indeed be the new millionaire.

All of a sudden, she recognized a familiar looking maid with her current charge and employee. Instantly she recognized her old school friend, Nola.

"Nola? Oh heavens, we must hurry. Who is this bright, little thing?" The little brunette looked up and like a doll, displayed her dimples as she smiled. Charles peeked from behind the woman who cared for him and caught a glimpse of the girl he had heard detailed stories about. She was the little girl who could light up a room just by batting her dark lashes. She was the little girl who wore jewelry on her head to seem as if she fitted in, when she was born to stand out. It was _her_ - the angel from the window across the canal.

"Blair. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, but we must hurry. Ana is frightfully cold." Blair snuggled her face against her doll and even smiled shyly at Charles. "You must be the boy, the one from across the canal. It's nice to meet you too."

Charles was beyond surprised when Blair genuinely smiled at him, no one ever acknowledged him like that. Usually people didn't smile while saying something referring to him. In his naïve mind, all he could think was that she was a nice and very pretty girl, and that there was a unique quality of sorts about her.

"Children we must hurry! The train will leave within minutes! You would not mind if we joined you?"

"You are very welcome." A male voice interrupted.

"Oh father, yes, let us be off to Paris!" Blair smiled excitedly at her father who smiled back with pride. "Oh and Papa, this is…Charles…yes?" She looked to Charles who smiled and nodded happily.

"Yes, very well. Here we are Little Duchess, wait one moment." Her father kissed her head and went off to see to the luggage at an unknown stand.

Blair nodded contently amidst the many crying and screaming people surrounding her. She looked down to her chest and started playing with her heart pendant.

"I like your necklace." Charles looked at her necklace with admiration and interest. "Where did you get it?'

"Thank you, my mother gave it to me, her mother gave it to her before that. Mama passed it on to me before she was gone." Blair sighed sadly and continued to fiddle with the necklace.

"Where did she go?" Charles didn't know why she sparked so much interest to him, but he felt as if he needed to know as much as possible.

"Up there." Blair pointed to the starry night sky that was covered with smoke. The falling snowflakes were spiraling all over the place due to the gusting wind.

Blair never knew her mother. All she did know was that her father loved her very much and that her mother was very close with her own mother - Blair's grandmother Eleanor, who she missed dearly. The mother duchess lived in America, some city that was called New Fork or New Yolk or something alike.

"Oh, I am sorry."

"No worries… Mother always said that: 'No worries' " Blair lightly patted him on the shoulder.

He smiled back at her and she gratefully returned the sentiment and hugged him.

"Stay safe Charles, we'll make it through this. _Change is inevitable_."

_Inevitable_, he would remember that word.

As if it had started raining people, greater flocks of men, women, and children piled through on the platform. The train was now loading and people rushed on to it, clinging to the monstrous hunk of metal.

Nola and Charles' nanny boarded first followed by The Archduke who was grasping Charles's and Blair's hands, one in each.

Suddenly, one of his hands felt empty, empty and cold. He turned around to find his daughter missing from his sight. He had a strange feeling washing over him.

"Blair? Little Duchess! Blair…!" he shouted desperately into the crowd with no avail. Even Charles' eyes were looking around frantically for the doe-eyed girl.

"Oh Ana there you are, don't you dare trying to run away from me again. You are my bosom friend." Blair whispered to the doll, which had fallen out of her hands and she had finally found under some stranger's abandoned shoe.

Slowly, the train started sounding off, the whistles were blowing and the engines started to power up. Nicholas was screaming for his daughter and when he had finally caught her eye. He went crazy.

"Blair! Blair! Run, run as if Father had just bought you a new headband, Run Duchess!" he shouted to her. She ran as fast as she could, maneuvering through the smelly, rude people.

"Papa! Wait for me, don't go!" She pleaded to him but he continued to move away on the train. She had to hurry.

Charles looked on with absolute horror as she grasped her father's hand and pleaded more with him.

"Father, please don't let go, I promise I-I'll be a good girl. Please, P-Please don't let go. Papa...Don't…NO!" Blair cried miserably, pleading.

"Blair! No!"

A bulky man who must've weighed at least three hundred pounds, charged through the crowd and knocked Blair off of her dainty little feet. Her hand slipped through her father's and the duke immediately sensed the loss of touch. She stumbled back up to see the train steaming away and she started hyperventilating and ran for shelter in a nearby alley.

She was still being pushed and shoved around and one woman accidentally shoved her against the wall of the building. Feeling dizzy, Blair sank to the ground and lost conscious; hopefully she could wake up and all would be nothing more than a nightmare.

Charles was in the corner cradling his head in his hands, almost mourning the loss of what could've been a dear friend…or _more_. The women were weeping and praying for the little girl. Nicholas was now alone, the little girl he had loved so much was forever lost. With all of her spunk and beauty, she had the entire world at her feet. It was all useless now, and he had no reason to leave. His daughter – Blair was gone.

Nicholas stared into space through the now closed window on the door. Even as they were long beyond the boarders of the Russian Empire, he continued to stare into space, holding onto the railing that slipped through his daughter's dainty hands.


	2. Chapter 2

1930. New York City.

"Damn these rich, old fashionistas. Here I am, offering a grand price for this building and the lady won't even acknowledge my existence. I'm Chuck Bass, real estate extraordinaire; you would think she had more common sense with her age and all. Women." Chuck sighed with a hint of frustration, looking up at the building he so desired, sure it would have no impact on his thriving career, or would be his new home of choice, but something about it, made him want it desperately.

"Chuck, people really aren't looking to sell. Especially for the people on Bond Street." Eric Schmitt, his trusted friend and confidante explained rather bitter sweetly while also looking at the aged building.

"Please, anyone is looking to sell, no one can have too much money Eric, and you know this, do you not?" Chuck implied. Eric did know this, to an extent. He had grown up in the city his whole life, and obviously he had seen plenty of businessmen, hoarding money until they eventually went mad.

"Chuck." He snapped. "If you want the damn building to bad, go on up there and talk with the old hag, as you so love to call her, even though you've never met the dear woman."

"I suppose I will, thank you once again for your wise words of encouragement, dear friend. " Chuck drawled sarcastically." I'll take it from here, don't wait up."

With that, Chuck stepped inside the building. Eric was steaming at his friend's blind stupidity. At this rate, Chuck would definitely go mad, and miss out on some of the greatest things a man could encounter. If the guy could, he'd marry his own money. Of course, money can never love you back, or return any affection, but Chuck was too indifferent for love, for anything significant.

Finally, making his way up the first step, Chuck walked into what looked and seemed like a true fashion house, young women scattering around and sweating at the sewing machine. The distinct clicking of the machines was downright annoying. Long behold, as fate would have it, sitting at a luxurious desk was Eleanor. Yes, Eleanor was Blair's grandmother, fate was a cruel thing. Memories soon resurfaced of Blair talking to him for the first time, Blair at the train station, Blair hugging him, and finally Blair's screams as she was left behind. Chuck shut his eyes and demanded his brain to cast away the horrifying memories, at least until he was at home, and it would lead him into another sleepless night.

An aged voice cut through his trance. "You must be that kid who wants to buy my building, don't waste my time, I'm not selling, I never will, so please get you and your wise-ass personality out of my fashion house." Well, she was blunt.

"Excuse me...Eleanor is it?"

"It's _your grace, the duchess_, to you."

Chuck was ready to play the part. He angled his head and put on his mask." I had the pleasure of knowing your granddaughter..."

She snapped at him quickly with an angry tone, "We don't speak of her!" He felt bad for the woman, Blair was her granddaughter after all, who knows how long it had been since she had last seen her before that horrible night. Water gathered in Eleanor's eyes and she finished, "Why must you bring her up, you must know that is a sore subject."

Chuck coughed. "I beg your pardon, madam; losing Blair, who was a friend, was hard on me too, even more so because I saw it happen."

Eleanor's eyes remained narrowed. "That is unfortunate, it must have been traumatizing at such a young age."

Chuck nodded wistfully and somewhat subconsciously, "What if I told you, she could be alive, at this very moment...?"

Eleanor shook her head adamantly and spoke, "Mr. Bass, you should know better, my poor granddaughter is a part of the past, she's gone." A tear rolled down her cheek.

"But a body was never found, nor a trinket signifying her death. For all you know, she could be shacking up with commoners or even worse..."

"Don't speak ill of the dead!" She shrieked.

"The little duchess may not be dead." he even doubted his own words, but a scheme was a scheme. "Eleanor, if I brought back the young duchess, alive and well… what do you suppose you could offer as a reward of sorts? An award, an honor, take your pick."

"If you did bring her back, a reward seems reasonable. Good Lord, I can't even believe I'm even considering this; I would only give you anything once I see her and prove it is indeed Blair. Is that clear?" Eleanor asked disapprovingly.

"Crystal. Forgive my bluntness, _duchess_...-"

"I cannot deny any small chance if my poor granddaughter is out there. If you find her, you'll get a grand reward that will keep you happy in your solitude, I might even sign over this building to you." Eleanor mused.

"But why give me everything you claim so close to your heart?"

"Having Blair back, would be everything I need. Hopefully someday, you will learn how it is indeed possible to put a person before money, but I somehow doubt you will be fortunate enough."

Chuck scoffed. "Do you need me to sign for anything?"

Eleanor in her wise stature shook her head, "I'll have it drawn up for when you return, with _or_ without her, and you then can decide if it's worth it."

"What do you mean _worth_ it?" Chuck questioned suspiciously.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Bass."

Muttering a quick profanity, he stormed out of the building, strictly to find Eric. They had a boat to catch and an imposter to find. As he said before, one could never have too much money, and he would lie to get it. He already had a feeling Blair was dead, but that would only help him get his great reward from Eleanor.

1930. St. Petersburg

She was almost done perfecting the dress she had been slaving over the past two weeks. It was a perfect sky blue frock with elegant black lace covering it in tasteful fashion. She had been working in as a seamstress for the army since she could remember. She had been practicing making dresses without the employer's permission. But to her, making army pants and jackets was not where she wanted her life to amount to, sure she had been doing it for years but she was meant for more.

Gathering up her things, she raced home. The sun gave her some warmth despite the chillier temperature in January. Despite frosty mornings, Blair loved weather like this, she had no childhood to remember but days like these made her feel as if these were more memorable. Her worn clothes blew in the wind and her hair beautifully swept across her face.

Usually during her meal break at the sewing shop, Blair would explore abandoned houses and pretend as if she lived in them. Recently she dared to go near the most noble houses, she stumbled across a lavish mansion, long abandoned, wrecked but abandoned. Looking at the state of these beautiful monuments made her feel both frustrated and sad, but as Dorota kept telling her, at times like these it was better to keep your mouth shut. Her brows furrowed in confusion and she saw the boarded up doors and windows. Apparently, they weren't boarded well enough because Blair could easily tear off the wooden plank and step inside.

The foyer was dusty and the colour on the carpet was worn out and otherwise aged. The whole house had a stuffy smell. The aura of the place seemed familiar though. Going deeper into the house, she found a huge staircase leading into what seemed to be a ballroom or something. She stepped down, taking each step carefully when she got to the last one and looked around.

It was eerie. She felt like she was invading someone's life, someone she didn't even know. Paintings were scratched up; some were in decent shape but just showed girls with questionable fashion sense.

Blair decided she liked the place and she would return soon, and explore some more, but she had to get home to Dorota soon. She had to hurry home, Dorota would be worried and supper would be set very soon.

_St. Petersburg, 1917._

_Blair rolled onto her side, feeling sick. Her head was pulsing and her stomach was doing flips. Her heart was racing and she had tears seeping out of the corners of her eyes. She groaned and tried asking for her father, but no reply came. Her head started to become foggy...what father? She had hit her head so hard taking that fall. Her doll was still clutched in her hands though._

_She noticed a man walking home from the docks. He was dressed in all black and carrying buckets. He looked so forlorn and sorrowful. When he caught sight of the little girl on the ground, his eyes widened and his figure speeded towards the sickly girl._

"_Child!" He patted her cheeks." Little one, what are you doing here all alone?" But she could not answer, her tongue felt too heavy to move. "I take you home with me, you are sick, poor thing." He seemed kind and gentle, adding to the buckets, he hoisted her up on his back and walked her back to his modest home._

_Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a plump looking woman with a sweet smile race frantically and mutter something to the man. The woman took little Blair and brought her into a bedroom and tucked her between warm warn out blankets._

"_Vanya, what do we do?" The woman asked sadly. "What's your name, detka?" She smiled encouragingly at Blair, her eyes begging for some kind of answer._

_Blair's head was pulsing so bad, she couldn't even make out a name. Too many thoughts were racing through her head, it hurt so much. She looked down at her doll, and frowned._

"_A-Ana"_

"_Ooh, its okay Miss Ana, Vanya and Dorota take care of you, we take care." She rubbed circles soothingly on Blair's back. Blair would never forget this sort of kindness for the rest of her life, because they saved hers in more ways than one._

Blair eventually find out the reason Vanya had been so sullen looking the day he saved her, was because their daughter Sasha was accidentally shot and killed during the riot she had accidently witnessed. Dorota and Blair became friends and Dorota acted just as a mother would.

"Dorota!" Blair came barging in through the door. "I apologize for being late, the orders I've been working gave me hell! I wish I could one day work with soft silk, rather than old dusty rough marine fabric."

"Oh, Miss Ana, no need for apology, just sit and eat, you need your strength." Dorota smiled sympathetically while patting Blair on the shoulder. "You becoming a woman Ana, beautiful young woman, men must notice you, no?"

"Never. They never bother to look behind the sewing desk, that is if they bother to even come into the shop. It is quite helpful since, apart from Vanya, I despise the opposite sex. Men are unreliable miscreants, dogs who booze away their troubles and when that doesn't work, they use women as draining pipes for their frustrations. I don't need a man, and I never will" Blair said this with dignity knowing every word was truthful.

Dorota just laughed and knew she would someday change her mind, and someone would someday look at her as if she was the only woman in the world. Dorota always knew Ana was special, she always thought Ana was her second chance at being a mother, after losing Sylvia. Dorota knew that she wasn't her birthmother, and Ana's past was all a blur to her, but Dorota loved her as any mother would cherish their child.

1930. New York City.

Eric sat in his comfortable chair sipping a nice cup of coffee. The fire was going and all was peaceful in the world, at least the world he had made for himself at the moment. Of course, Chuck sauntered into the room with a glorified look on his face.

"Eric. We are leaving town, in an hour, pack your things; we've got a boat to catch." Chuck said while throwing his own things into a bag.

"Um, excuse me if I'm confused, but why the hell are we leaving, and where to exactly?"

"Your birthday is coming up is it not? Well, we are going to Europe to celebrate the precious anniversary of your birth, my friend. Get a move on!" Chuck tapped his foot impatiently and Eric finally got up and packed his things. Both raced out of the house to catch their ship.

The ships engines roared as they were now in the middle of the Atlantic. The sun was setting and the horizon never looked more beautiful. Eric looked on as Chuck stood alone against the railing peering out at the vast sea. He stepped beside him.

"So tell me, what is the real reason for us sailing of to _Russia_, because we both know my birthday is not for another two months, _friend_." Eric drawled as Chuck smirked, not even going to deny his slight lie.

"I need to find Blair."

"Chuck, you know she's de - ."

"Dead, yes I know she is dead. I mean I need to find a girl to pose as her. If I can prove to her grandmother that she is the girl, I will finally get my hands on that building I've been wanting for years." Chuck explained staring off into the enticing sunset.

"Chuck, you can't just make someone act like someone else, and why do you even need the wretched building? Why put the poor lady through painful memories?" Eric reasoned.

"When are you going to get it?" Chuck seethed. "One can never own too much property! As for the girl, she will have to deal with what comes, whoever she is."

"This will only end badly, I know it."

"You know nothing." Chuck spat, and with that he spun around and stalked inside the ship, falling into a dreamless sleep.


End file.
